


Together, In Harmony

by Piehead



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Soulmates, Soulmates mashup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 17:57:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13346481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piehead/pseuds/Piehead
Summary: Not two hearts, not three, but four. They beat in time with one another. All the pieces fall into place. They deserve this.





	Together, In Harmony

**Author's Note:**

> HEY so i can't find the original conversation where I promised my friend Max Zimbitsnowtots but??? here the fuck it is.

Jack Zimmermann’s one of the lucky few to have his soulmates’ first words to him on his body. And it wasn’t like he only had one statement, simple and lovingly curved around his shoulder, no. He had _three_ statements, all of them different. From the Russian across his stomach to the soft, but affirming greeting along his collar bone, to the obviously upset statement wrapped about his left bicep. All of them were signs of three other parts to his soul, and Jack needed only look at them some days to remember he isn’t actually alone.

It isn’t uncommon for someone to have more than a single soulmate, but highly unusual for anyone to have three or up. Jack knows he’s lucky; having three soul mates means that he’s always meant to be apart of something bigger than himself, and when the world gets too heavy on his shoulders he can feel them, just at the back of his mind, reassuring him that everything will be alright. Through colors and words and feelings, the best they can do.

When the world pushes Jack down, he gets back up, because there are three distinct pieces of his soul that need him, and he won’t stop pushing until he knows who they are, until he can give them back the same comfort they give him.

Eric Bittle is afraid of the marks, at first. He isn’t lucky enough to have the words of his soulmates on his chest, he isn’t lucky enough to see the flashes of life they do. He isn’t even lucky enough to hear their thoughts. No, Eric was given three different soul marks, shapes and forests and what had to be a mountain range that meant more to them than anything else. And he’s afraid, because he’s the odd Bittle child that has three soulmates instead of one, and isn’t that something strange? God dealt him a cruel hand by giving him more than one person to handle. How would he even find all three of them with so many different signs?

That’s what they whispered, when they thought little Dicky Bittle couldn’t hear them. It’s what they shouted when they pushed him into the utility closet, locked him in overnight. They called him a freak, they called him weird, they told him fate lied. Made it abundantly clear that he was never going to have anyone, because no one would take a person with more than one soul mark on their body. It hurt.

It hurt to think that he was actually going to be alone. It hurt to think that they wouldn’t want him, the three others that were meant to have him. It hurt to think that they would see Eric and think him less than what they expected or wanted. And when it hurts, when he’s in that closet alone and assuming the worst and hyperventilating because no one's gonna help him, that’s when they do. When there’s soothing Russian in his ears and flashes of color behind his eyelids, soft grays and gentle blues, and the feeling that he isn’t alone. It helps with the fear.

And when he’s found, he tells his Mama he _wasn’t_ alone, because if he has three soulmates, he never truly is.

Sam Noel has been getting flashes and glimpses of other lives since he was four. One of his favourite memories as a child isn’t his mother’s smile (though it’s right up there) or even his first words. No, it’s the first time one of his soulmates stepped out onto the ice of a frozen pond, barely a year old, in skates and pushing off his mother’s leg. It’s a memory from when Sam was just shy of seven, when the entire world was still new, and he figured out hockey was the only thing he wanted to do because it would lead him to one of his loves.

He remembers the year before, when he was turning five, a simple memory of warm soup in the cold winter. Summer? He only knew it was cold, freezing even, coming in and sitting down to a warm bowl and a mother’s smile. The way she looks at him, like she’ll pull the moon and even stars from the sky for him, but Sam knows it was never _him_ she was looking at. She was looking at her own child.

Sam remembers the cold a lot, actually. Because of course, two of his soulmates live in the extremely cold climates further north of the world, while Sam himself lives in hot Florida. The only other thing he remembers is heat, when he’s nine years old. It’s the last connection he feels slip into place in his mind, when he’s finally complete, and just needs to meet them. The second source of heat in his life is that of an oven, Sam knows, because he sees the heat inside of it and a pie. He sees many pies in his life.

Alexei Mashkov has never had his mind to himself. When he was four, he sometimes cried because he always found himself hearing the thoughts of two other people, and then there were the simple thoughts of a baby, someone small Alexei didn’t understand. It was easy to get the emotions though, because when the baby was upset he knew the others were trying to make the baby feel better, but Alexei knew he was the only one able to really push the words through, because he’s the only one that can do it clearly, with words, even if they’re under developed Russian.

When he’s older, it’s the words that fail him, when the English in his mind is jumbled and he knows the oldest (of course he’s the oldest, because someone has to be, right?) is trying to get one of them to stop _something_ and it isn’t working, because the emotions aren’t enough. When Alexei feels like he’s failed one of the pieces of himself, when he feels the pain deep within his being, when their youngest can’t walk from the pain of it. The words _fail_ him, because even if all he’s been hearing for years is English he doesn’t know what to say.

Alexei feels useless, that one time, and it’s what jumpstarts his English lessons. Because how could he have this—this _gift_ to hear what his other parts think and he can’t understand them, not really? How can he have the ability beyond feeling their emotions of hearing what ails them when he can do no more to comfort them than speak Russian they don’t understand? No, it isn’t right. He learns English because the language barrier is obvious and great and he wants to be able to talk to his loves.

They are four, a quartet meant to be together in life, passing each other first and then stepping before one another. This is their story.

~//~

Jack knew immediately and he hated himself for it.

He doesn’t know if he’s affecting Bittle the same way Bittle is affecting him, but he knows _something_ clicks in Bittle’s mind, and Jack hates himself for not expecting this. Of course one of the freshman would be a piece of his soul, of course Jack would wind up being a dick to him, and of _fucking_ course he would feel the hurt that came so immediately in their link, unfurling more now that Jack has acknowledged that Bittle was one of his soulmates.

And Jack fucking hates himself for not knowing what to do. He can feel himself wanting to comfort Bittle, years of doing so since Bittle was a baby conditioning him into responding, but he doesn’t. He pushes down on the feeling, and _that’s_ when the recognition flashes in Bittle’s eyes, because he knows, he can tell, now, that it’s Jack. One of the three other pieces of himself is Jack.

Jack makes sure he’s never alone with Bittle. Being alone with him, anywhere, would allow Bittle to speak on it, to acknowledge Jack’s failings and to ask questions. _Why did it feel like you rejected me? Why are you doing this? Why won’t you let us have this? What happened five years ago?_

They’re questions Jack can’t answer yet, or he thinks maybe he doesn’t _want_ to answer yet. Not about why he hasn’t completely accepted Bittle ( _they’re in college together they’re together but Jack isn’t_ **_ready_** —), not about why he’s doing this ( _he can’t risk it what if it’s another mistake what if it’s not_ **_right_** —), not about why he can’t let himself have anything good ( _he didn’t deserve it yet he didn’t deserve_ **_any_ ** _of it yet he wasn’t good enough to have_ **_anything_** —), not about his overdo—

He can’t answer Bittle. He doesn’t answer Bittle. He makes himself hardlines and harder frowns, a demand for success higher than any other on his team, pushes a piece of himself away. It’s harder than Jack ever thought; it isn’t just a mental thing, it’s emotional and physical, too. He knows it’s taking a toll on his body (the full body physical fatigue he feels, the occasional nausea, the splitting headaches) and he can only hope Bittle isn’t feeling the worst effects of the Rejection.

But Jack can barely sit up one morning, knows he can’t make it to class because he was dumb enough to think he could power through this. He feels Bittle in his mind, small and powerless in his dorm, and it’s what makes Jack get up. Not the prospect of missing a day of class, but the idea that he has to keep hurting them like this, when all they both need is each other. Right now, anyway. One day it won’t be just the two of them, one day soon.

For now, he finds himself slipping into Bittle’s dorm, into Bittle’s bed, pulling him close and trying not to let the sudden relief flood his system. He still doesn’t know Bittle; he doesn’t know anything about him beyond soulmate and pie. This is to help both of them, and Jack knows it’s a bit selfish. They have a game in a few days and they both need to be at one hundred percent to play.

The checking clinics are an excuse to give them both the proximity and acceptance they need, as well as a way for Jack to get to know Bittle, because what kind of soulmate doesn’t try to learn about the other piece of himself? Jack knows Bittle hasn’t entirely forgiven him and Jack won’t ask for that; he doesn’t deserve it because of what he put Bittle through. Jack doesn’t even know why he thought that Rejection would ever help them.

Bittle’s pulling off his skates when he finally speaks to Jack, when he says, “Do you hate me?” and it’s a bold question, from what Jack knows of Bittle, and at the same time it’s said in such a small voice that Jack can’t help feeling like he’s been such an idiot.

“No,” he replies, softly, while he laces up his shoes. “I never hated you.”

“Then why did you—” and Bittle falls silent. He can’t say the word, like it’ll bring back all the animosity Jack has shown him.

“...I don’t want to hurt you,” Jack admits. It’s small, like Bittle’s question, and it’s more of himself than Jack was ever willing to actually give away to anyone else. Not Lardo, not Shitty, not Ken—

But it isn’t an answer Bittle wants.

“Fine job you did of that.”

And Jack knows Bittle, even if he doesn’t _know_ him he _knows_ Bittle, and he knows that it isn’t something Bittle would ever usually say. Not to Jack, anyway, because Jack is his Captain who hates him and caused all the problems to begin with. Jack doesn’t even _consider_ asking for any form of forgiveness because he knows he absolutely does not deserve it and has never deserved it. Just like before, he’s going to end up watching something important to him slip through his fingers because of his own constant fuck ups.

Jack forgets, for a moment, that Bittle can feel his upset, but then he’s reminded that even though Bittle is upset he’ll never leave Jack to stew on his own. Their proximity makes the feelings come through so much easier, the warmth spreading from around Jack’s arm up into his entire being. He can feel the other pieces of himself, too, confused by his sudden sadness, trying their best to calm him.

Bittle must be able to feel it as well, because he gets up and he walks over to Jack, barefoot, and brings a hand up to gently touch Jack’s cheek. Jack thinks Bittle would never have done this if they weren’t soulmates, but in what life wouldn’t they be? Soulmates found each other regardless of anything, didn’t they? Even when the odds were against them. And here they were, two out of four, trying their damndest not to break what’s already been bent.

They’re bowing under pressure, yes, like when a game is heading into overtime and the team is slowly collapsing in on itself from fatigue and tension, and Jack is pushing them harder, too hard, because he wants to win. He wants _them_ to win. He wants the team to be better because he knows they _are_ better. And then the pressure is too much, and it explodes, and the other team wins, and Jack knows. He knows it’s his fault. Like this.

He was always the maker of his messes, after all.

“I’ll—” Jack steps back, away, because he might be overwhelmed with the hesitant feelings seeping into his mind, because he works _so_ much better with Bittle, because he doesn’t want to fall down into a hole of his own design because he can never let himself have anything good. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

And Jack retreats. He hurries out of the locker room and forgets his bag and doesn’t even think about going back for it until after he’s showered and breakfast is in fifteen. He goes back to where he left Bittle feeling sad, the emotions in their link raw and hurt, where he felt the other two pieces of himself confused and upset because he and Bittle are confused and upset. He goes back and he finds a small note sitting on top of his things, neatly packed up and sitting in his stall.

 _We need to start over_.

It’s such a simple thing, written in Bittle’s messy scrawl, and Jack agrees. He agrees and he slips the note into his pocket, thinking about it continuously because it’s a second chance, and Jack has so rarely had those. Second chances were reserved for people worth so much more. Jack never thought he deserved the ones he got and here was another, from a soulmate of his. He was so fucking lucky.

When he steps into the cafeteria he finds Bittle, sits across from him. Gently touches his foot to Bittle’s own and is silently glad when Bittle doesn’t pull away. The rest of the team hasn’t sat down just yet, which gives Jack time to lean forward just a bit, the contact between them never broken.

“I’m Jack Zimmermann, Captain of the team,” he says softly. “Glad to have you with us.”

Bittle flashes him a small smile and Jack knows he’s done for all over again.

“Eric Bittle, but you can call me Bitty. Glad to be here.”

~//~

Snowy likes to think he knows Tater well. Since their first eye contact in Tater’s rookie year, when they figured out they were soulmates, he’s liked to think he knows Tater better than anyone else ever has. He knows he doesn’t need to fear anything, nothing like Rejection (he’s felt too much of that recently and he knows where it’s coming from, he got a good glimpse of both of his two other soulmates as it was happening and it nearly _broke_ him) from Tater because Tater’s perceptive and amazing.

That being said, Snowy still wishes he had gotten the mind reading perk out of their unique case. Because when Tater slams up his walls he’s impossible to get through to, especially when he doesn’t want Snowy to get in. The last time this happened was because one of George’s assistants said something incredibly fucking intolerant and it messed Tater up bad. The usually happy Russian man disappeared for _days_ behind it and Snowy had to rely completely on the emotions that leaked through to find him.

It takes another two days to coax Tater out of the bed in Thirdy’s guest room. They were laying together for at least a full twenty-four hours before Snowy got him to even _sit up_ for fuck’s sake. When Tater finally lets the walls down, though, when he finally lets Snowy in, it’s so much more than Snowy first expects it to be. Sliding back into Tater’s mind is like coming _home_ , and he knows he’s already gotten too used to being in Tater’s headspace if he feels like that.

When they come back to work, stronger than they were before, the assistant is gone and Georgia assures them they’ll never have to worry about anything like that ever again. It starts the yearly seminar on acceptance, and they’re practically holding hands across the room whenever Georgia reiterates that no one is ever allowed to belittle someone for something so far out of their control like soulmates or sexuality or gender or whatever the case is. The players, the staff, everyone who works with the team is required to attend, and it’s always a reaffirmation of support whenever it happens.

It brings Snowy’s mind back around to Tater, who is always smiling even when he has something nagging him in the back of his head. Snowy knows when it does because he’s always already _there_ ; trying to get to the bottom of the issue bothering one of the pieces of his soul because Tater will _stew_ in his upset until it shuts him down, and Snowy isn’t too fond of the idea of having to hunt him down again.

When they’re finally alone in their apartment (just big enough to house the two of them but they’re prepared to move suddenly if need be) the question doesn’t even need to be asked because Tater already knows what it is. He’s known since about 3:08pm.

“I am worried,” Tater admits when they’re lying together on the couch, when he’s got his head resting atop Snowy’s chest and Snowy’s hands are running gently through Tater’s hair. The action is meant to soothe, because Snowy distinctly remembers Tater’s mother doing the same thing when Tater was a small boy. It was one of his favourite memories (that wasn’t his own).

“They’ll be fine,” Snowy reassures, either actually out loud or loud enough in his head for Tater to hear. He thinks it’s the latter, because Tater doesn’t open his mouth to speak.

“They should not feel so much pain. They are young.”

“You’re one to talk.”

And that gets Tater to smile, because Tater is still pretty young compared to Snowy, at least in Snowy’s opinion. Tater pushes up to give him a small kiss.

“Am still worried. I hope they figure it out soon.”

Snowy wants to roll his eyes but he knows he’s worried too and Tater can feel it, so instead, he decides to kiss Tater again, and use the exchange to push at their other half, who are together but not _together,_ who worry them with thoughts of Rejection and nausea and bad headaches. They take their love and they spread it, and they gain so much gratitude in return that Snowy doesn’t know what to do with it all aside from store it in the back of his mind for him and Tater to revisit later on down the road.

A year later, Georgia practically hands them one of their soulmates wrapped up in an anxiety ridden package. Snowy isn’t there at first but he knows Tater is because Tater babbles in Russian in his head, where Snowy feels someone else hesitantly settling into place in the space Snowy has grown comfortable in.

When Tater brings Jack to meet him ( _His name is Jack! Jack Zimmermann!_ Tater practically shouts in Snowy’s head) Snowy is calm, collected, and can finally see all of the hazy recollections in his mind clearly, like the steam being wiped off a mirror (which is nothing like when he finally saw Tater clearly, when he felt like he had come up out of a deep pool and taken a first breath). He sees Jack, at age three, learning how to play hockey. He sees Jack, at twelve, winning a game as Captain of his team. He sees Jack, at eighteen, doubled over a sink with a bottle of pills falling from his hands—

He sees Jack, standing before him, afraid, because Snowy was practically there.

“You’re safe here, Jack, I’m glad to finally meet you,” Snowy smiles. He sees Jack’s eyes widen and Jack’s hand comes up to his collarbone, touching that area softly. Snowy partly wishes he had said something cooler as his first words to Jack, but they’re there, on Jack’s collarbone Snowy is sure, and he remembers seeing them for the first time in a mirror. Maybe that was why he knew to say them.

“We are so close!” Tater says, practically beaming. Jack still seems a bit hesitant, but he smiles, a full smile, and Snowy knows things will be alright. He commits the smile to memory and flashes one of his own, and he knows that this is where Jack will stay.

“We definitely are,” Snowy agrees. “Three out of four isn’t bad.”

“Bittle will love you guys,” Jack says, “but be careful. He’ll try to fill you up with pie.”

It’s not a statement Snowy was expecting but it’s one he isn’t surprised about. Another favourite memory of his is the first pie their youngest had ever made, sloppy but beautiful in its own way. Snowy finds himself laughing despite himself, and soon the three of them have broken into a laughing fit, riding the high between them.

They don’t forget to push the emotions to their youngest, because he deserves that kind of happiness too. They could feel him dipping into a sad mood (because he’s alone) and they use the good feelings to chase out the bad. Jack gets a text from Bittle only seconds later with a tiny thank you and a few heart emojis and Snowy and Tater couldn’t be happier to know that they’re all feeling good.

Afterall, there are too many hearts between them for one to feel heavy when the others could lift them up.

~//~

Bitty is just as in love with Snowy and Tater as he is with Jack when he first meets them. He had been putting the meeting off for so long, afraid of being inadequate, but Jack always knew what to tell him. It doesn’t help that Tater’s been not-so-subtle about his whining for pie in his mind, which just makes him overly fond of him. It was no secret that Bittles like to feed folks, and now Bitty had three NHL men to take care of.

Snowy is the most levelheaded of the four of them, Bitty knows. Because he’s seen flashes of images, mainly a phone screen that says, in all caps, FINISH YOUR ESSAY whenever he’s procrastinating at one in the morning. His sheepishness never goes unnoticed and Snowy never hesitates to push fond emotions into Bitty’s mind whenever he feels bad about not getting his things done on time.

Snowy makes them his responsibility, as the oldest of them, and he makes sure they’re all content. It’s easier with Tater, because he makes it known when he’s upset with too many emotions and plenty of Russian phrases whose meanings they’ve picked up on. Bitty knows he could shut them all out, that Tater could choose to keep them from entering his mind but lets them in anyway. They’re lucky to be so _open_ with each other, from day one, because it’s rare to have the kind of bond that they do.

Snowy is good for them, because there’s never a moment when he isn’t trying his damndest to share some good with them. When they lose a game after making it to the Frozen Four he pushes all the good cheer at them that he can, because he loves them too much to let them be sad. He knows Snowy can see when they score, knows Snowy can see the sadness in Jack’s eyes when they sit together in that loading dock. He knows Snowy is there with them, blanketing them in a hug because he loves them and he’ll support them as best he can.

Bitty loves Tater’s perceptiveness. People write him off at times, because his English isn’t the best but Bitty knows enough Russian to be able to hold a conversation, especially when he jolts awake at three in the morning from a nightmare ( _dark walls closing in around him and the loss of breath, air being pulled out of his lungs as his chest is constricted—_ ) and Tater’s soothing Russian is the first thing in his head, reminding him it was only a dream. Tater chases away those bad dreams with sweet lullabies and doesn’t stop even when Snowy’s pushing better memories and soothing colors into his head.

Tater is a gift, and Bitty can never stop rubbing at the mountain range along his shoulders whenever he misses him, because that mountain range is the view Tater used to see from his bedroom back in Russia. It’s beautiful and Bitty wants to go there someday, see it in person instead of mirrors. Whenever Tater describes them (always in Russian, never in English, because English just doesn’t have the right words) Bitty falls just a little bit more in love. Whether it’s with the mountains or Tater, he doesn’t know.

It’s sometimes hard to tell, because when Tater gets passionate about something he makes it known, and there’s something beautiful about that itself. Passion like that only happens in a person every so often, and Tater is the smile when they’re all feeling down. And if Tater himself can’t smile, Bitty smiles for him and sends him the best emotions he can through that mountain range, because Tater deserves it.

Jack was probably the hardest to crack of the three. Their first meeting went so horribly wrong, whenever Bitty thinks about it his mood dips. Because Rejection isn’t easy for _anyone_ involved, not when it makes a person sick beyond belief, the emotional turmoil becoming physical. He remembers, distinctly, the first sign of Acceptance he ever received from Jack, when Jack slipped into his bed in his dorm and held him and they got better together. _Together._

The checking clinics were a good excuse to be around each other, in Bitty’s eyes. Jack thinks he’s slick, but Bittle knows him even if he doesn’t _know_ him, because Jack doesn’t know how to cut off his emotions. The checking clinics, even when aggressive as Jack checks him into the boards (again and again and ag _ain and again and again_ —), were always a good way for Bitty to check in with Jack. He couldn’t just slide into place in Jack’s mind (that was all Tater, all the time) but when the forest around his thighs hurt he knows Jack is hurting too, and it was always easy to tell when Jack was hurting the worse.

Even with all he’s been through with Jack he _never_ wants him to hurt like when Bitty was thirteen and the overdose happened, when the pain was so great he couldn’t walk and when he looked down at his thighs the marks faded in and out. It was one of the most terrifying times in Bitty’s life and even with the brief time of Rejection he never wants Jack to hurt like that ever again. Not if he can ever help it.

“What are you thinking about?” Snowy asks him when Bitty is staring at the window of their apartment. And it is _theirs_ , it belongs to the four of them and it’s a _home_ because they’re all together in it.

“Nothing,” Bitty smiles, going back to kneading dough for another pie. He’s got cookies in the oven that should be done soon and he’s been thinking about making donuts for days. Blueberry. Tater’s been pushing the thought into his head for weeks now.

“Mhmm,” Snowy doesn’t entirely believe him, Bitty knows, but he lets himself be pulled into a loose embrace, feels Snowy nuzzle at his neck where the mark of what was almost a necklace drops down beneath his shirt and covers part of his chest.

“You thinking about us?” Snowy asks, which leads Bitty to nod, because honestly when _isn’t_ he thinking about the other pieces of himself? He was so lucky to have three people who understood him beyond the surface, where some people only had one.

“Careful. You don’t want those emotions to fill Tater’s head like a balloon. Gotta keep him humble.” Snowy smiles against Bitty’s neck and Bitty closes his eyes and agrees, silently. He’s graced with images of his two other loves, because Tater and Jack went out to get groceries forever ago and they aren’t back yet and Snowy and Bitty miss them.

Promises of being home soon are pushed into their thoughts along with warm, sappy emotions, and Snowy pulls away to let Bitty finish baking. He doesn’t go far.

~//~

Tater’s mind is always a mixture of Russian and English and many, _many_ , emotions but he has gotten so good at wading through the thoughts that it’s like a really good shift in a game. Except his linemates are Jack and Bitty and Snowy’s waiting at one end of the rink for them after their game winning goal, and they all clash together in a celly that’s too many limbs but just the right amount of love.

His soulmates are such an integral part of him that Tater honestly can’t remember a time when they weren’t. He was a baby when he first began to get Snowy’s thoughts and he was just shy of one when he first got Jack’s. At six he got Bitty’s thought and they’re the ones that always concerned him the most, because Bitty is younger than all of them and has so much more fear in his heart than either Snowy or Jack.

Tater sometimes blames himself for what happened. He was always so focused on making sure that Bitty was okay that Jack’s wellbeing had slipped right past him. He had heard the thoughts of a boy looking for help and hadn’t given it to him like he should have. Whenever he feels particularly bad, when his walls start slipping back up to close himself off from the world, that’s when they slip right through the cracks to remind him that they’re there, and it isn’t his fault. Because fate was out of his control, and they all had to learn to be on their own before they could learn to be together.

Tater always thought that was bullshit, because none of them ever _had_ to be alone. Tater hadn’t ever been alone, not once in his life, because he had three people in his head who loved him. He was never alone if Bitty was there with pie, he was never alone if Jack gave him that smile, he was never alone if Snowy found him at his lowest. He was never alone and he didn’t ever want to _be_ alone.

He feels like he might be the simplest of them all, even if he has the most complex way of knowing his soulmates. It’s something Tater takes pride in, whenever he’s holding Bitty or kissing Jack or with Snowy. He likes reminding them that they were never truly alone, even if it sometimes felt like it, because alone meant without their other pieces, and so long as Tater could connect them with his thoughts, they were never without each other.

It’s the most comforting thought Tater has, and he keeps that one locked up where only they can get to it. Because why should he let anyone else have what was theirs? No, this was only between them, and he wouldn’t give it to anyone no matter what they tried.

“Tater?”

He looks up to see Jack giving him a soft, confused, smile. They’ve been in the grocery store for a long time now and Tater knows Jack is worried, can feel it pulsing down their link.

“Yes, yes, Zimmboni, I’m coming,” Tater grins and grabs the carrots he’s been eyeing. He wants soup, since they’re in the dead of winter and it’s cold, and he has a recipe from his Mama he wants to share.

“Took you awhile,” Jack teases, because he’s so much more open now than he’s ever been before. It makes Tater beam at him in response.

“Just thinking.”

About the loves of his life, about how lucky he is, about how grateful he was. Tater thinks about them and he lets happiness swell within him, because this is theirs and no one can take it from them.

**Author's Note:**

> This was literally the most complicated Soulmate AU I have EVER written because I wanted to do a mashup AU of many different ones.
> 
> So Tater can hear his soulmates' thoughts, Snowy can see glimpses of their lives through their eyes, Jack has their first words to him, Bitty has marks (that are important to his soulmates). Bitty's marks are: the forest surrounding the first pond Jack ever skated on, the mountain range outside Tater's window back in his childhood home, the necklace Snowy's grandmother gave him when she migrated to the US. Tater can help his soulmates read each other's minds. Jack and Bitty basically feel their soulmates pain through their marks, Snowy's memory is so good he saves a lot of the memories that were important to his soulmates.
> 
> It's a lot, yes, but I'm proud of this mini behemoth and I honestly don't hesitate to delete nasty comments.


End file.
